Braiding Sweetgrass

In our stories, when humans alone could not conquer them, the
people called upon their champion, Nanabozho, to be light against
darkness, a song against the shriek of the Windigo. Basil Johnston
tells the story of an epic battle fought for many days with legions of
warriors, led by their hero. There was fierce fighting, many
weapons, trickery, and courage as they sought to surround the
monster in his lair. But I noticed something in the background of
this story different from any Windigo tale I’d ever heard: You can
smell flowers. There was no snow, no blizzard; the only ice was in
the heart of the Windigo. Nanabozho had chosen to hunt down the
monster in the summer. The warriors paddled across ice-free lakes
to the island where the Windigo had his summer refuge. The
Windigo is most powerful in the Hungry Time, in winter. With the
warm breezes his power wanes.
Summer in our language is niibin—the time of plenty—and it was
in niibin that Nanabozho faced down the Windigo and defeated him.
Here is the arrow that weakens the monster of overconsumption, a
medicine that heals the sickness: its name is plenty. In winter, when
scarcity is at its zenith, the Windigo rages beyond control, but when
abundance reigns the hunger fades away and with it the power of
the monster.
In an essay describing hunter-gatherer peoples with few
possessions as the original affluent society, anthropologist Marshall
Sahlins reminds us that, “modern capitalist societies, however richly
endowed, dedicate themselves to the proposition of scarcity.
Inadequacy of economic means is the first principle of the world’s
wealthiest peoples.” The shortage is due not to how much material
wealth there actually is, but to the way in which it is exchanged or
circulated. The market system artificially creates scarcity by
blocking the flow between the source and the consumer. Grain may